When It's Forgotten
by Carl Poppa's Gingerbread Boy
Summary: "I won't let them forget about you. I promise, they won't forget. About us." [ Carl x Enid ] [ Takes place in S5 when Rick's group reaches Alexandria ]
1. Prologue: The Ashes

**_"When It's Forgotten"_  
 _Prologue – "The Ashes"_**

 **\- * *** _From the Point of View of: Enid *** * -**_

There are so many things that people say about the world these days. They say it wasn't supposed to happen.

They say, "It's an accident. It's awful. It's scary. But if you look close enough, it gets better. More beautiful. You see hope."

You know what I say? It's crazy. It's dangerous. It's mad. And if you look close enough, it gets crazier. A bit more dangerous. Slightly more mad.

Things don't just get better. They don't work like that. They get worse before they get better. In this case, things got worse before they got even worse, and so on.

I feel trapped in Alexandria. Trapped with people who are trying to forget. They try to get rid of it; they burn the memories and think that it's was over. But after fire comes ashes. They think it's over, but they can't get rid of the ashes. They stain your hands, they stain your heart, reminding you every day of what happened. _I am the ashes_.

I'm like a scar. You can cover me up; you can say I'm not there. But every time your sleeve slips up, every time your cover comes off, I'm there. Because you can't get rid of me. You can't get rid of the ashes.

I don't know what to call it. Apocalypse sounds cheesy; it sounds like I'm living in a videogame. People started calling it The Accident. But I prefer not to; it was no accident. I'm not superstitious; I'm not saying it happened for a specific reason. I'm just saying it wasn't an accident. It was more like… More like a contingency.

But things seem to just be that way. Lately, there's been no pattern to the madness. It's like one second everything was fine, the next there's a chaos. Then, it goes back to being fine. Like everything is perfect. But it's not. Things can't be perfect anymore. Nothing is perfect when there are flesh-eating monsters just around the gate. Just beyond the fence. I suppose that's the price we pay, though. Freedom has its risks.

They tell us we're not supposed to be free. Freedom is dangerous; "Stay inside the walls and you'll be safe." They tell us. They don't know. They don't know what it's like.

They don't know what I'm like.

But it's okay, they don't need to know. They wouldn't understand, anyway. Nobody does.

* * *

 **A.N. Short chapter because it's the prologue. The other chapters will (hopefully) range from 2.5k to 4k words. Please review (even though there's not much to review yet)! :)**


	2. The Break

**_"When It's Forgotten"_  
Chapter 1 – _"The Break"_**

 ** _\- * *_** _From the Point of View of: Enid *** * -**_

It's amazing, really, the forest outside the walls. By far the closest to perfection I'd seen in a while. I didn't even know the world still had beauty until then; until I saw that forest. It seemed to call to me from where I would stand inside the walls, like a bird calling to a prisoner in their cell.

The first time I left the town, it was daunting. I didn't know if I was even supposed to be out there, but it didn't matter. They could kick me out of the town, for all I cared. Tie me to a tree in the middle of the woods and wait for them to get me. At least I'd be able to breath in real air for a while.

Somehow, I always knew that I was supposed to be out there. That was how things were supposed to be… For everyone. Unfortunately not everyone agreed with that. Oh well, their loss, more room for me.

I'll admit, sometimes it did get lonely out in the woods. The only person to talk to was myself, and the wind was the only thing faster than me as I raced aimlessly through the woods.

I love running; I always have. It's like a stress reliever. I liked it more when the wind picks up and I would run with it. It almost felt like I was on a team again. Like there was someone there behind me, pushing me on.

My breathing grew ragged and heavy so I stopped for a minute to take a break. The backpack on my shoulders weighed me down, almost toppling me forward as I leaned down to rest my hands on my knees.

The wind continued to whip my hair around in my face, temporarily hindering my vision from the endless scape of trees and vegetation. I pushed the hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear before persisting to take in the beautiful view. The noon sun hung high in the sky, casting dark, harsh shadows down and darkening the vibrant colors of the woods. Greens, browns, some variations of yellows and reds. It's like a forest's rainbow.

The most beautiful part of the woods was how natural they were. They weren't false like the towns I'd been to. They hadn't been tampered with in any way; they only remained intact with their own natural splendor.

But it would all end the second I climbed back over the tall concrete walls of Alexandria. It would all disappear in a flash; it would be over. It goes at quickly as it comes. The feeling faded like smoke drifting into the sky from a vanishing flame.

I hated the way it felt when it fades. I started to feel useless; I felt like there was no point anymore. No point in just sitting around inside an empty house waiting for something to happen, because it never did. Nothing ever happened until I slipped away from the invisible chains binding me to the 'safety' of Alexandria and out into the real world. Where real things are happening. Out there, there were real problems, real issues bigger than running out of flour for the cookies or not having enough champagne to cater to all of the guests attending your soiree.

I decided that on that day, I'd stay out late. I'd find a nice tall tree to reside in, maybe chill out and read a book or something. It was a luxury I wasn't exposed to very often. I can't even remember the last time I was able to stay out for more than two hours at a time without someone getting worried about me. I guess when a zombie apocalypse strikes up it incapacitates society from understanding that 15 year old girls can still take care of themselves.

I lifted myself back up from where I was bent forward in exhaustion. My feet kept pedaling on despite my lack of energy and I surveyed the canopy of green blankets of leaves cooling the normally hot summer air with its shade from above. None of the trees within my viewpoint looked good enough to spend the remainder of the day in, so I continued my trek through the overgrown brush.

I was drawing deeper into the forest than I'd ever been before. It was like my day off, my break, with both my guardians out on a run and school being out for the weekend and whatnot, and I wanted to spend it respectively.

It had been fifteen peaceful yet fatiguing minutes, according to my digital watch, and I still hadn't reached a point with which I was comfortable abiding in for my free day.

I knew that I had to stop somewhere soon because of the growing ache in my back. But I still didn't feel comfortable with any of the trees near, so I turned around and retraced my steps back toward the town. I wasn't going back, though, just looking for a more contented place to rest.

I finally decided that I wouldn't be able to walk another step if I didn't take a short break, so I looked around once more and decided upon a short, wide tree with one thick branch almost on a horizontal angle.

I knew that I couldn't climb up the tree with the bag on my back, so I retrieved a rope from inside the bag and tied it to the holding strap on the top of the backpack. Then, I threw the rope in the air so the very end of it was slung over the branch. That way when I got up to the branch I could use the rope to pull the bag up to me.

On my first few tries I slipped off the tree and landed hard on the ground. At one point I almost reached a point of security, but I lost my footing and fell back down. Again.

"Ugh…" I grunted with frustration as I attempted for what felt like the hundredth time to hoist myself back up into the crotch of the tree. When I lifted myself up high enough, I could see the walls from where they stood a short distance away.

At first I thought the moans and groans were my own. But when I finally stopped to listen in closer I realized they weren't. "Shit!" I hissed, dropping myself down from where I was hanging from a thinner branch flailing my feet around trying to get a grip on the side of the tree.

The first thing I did was run to salvage my backpack. I ran for my bag before I even searched to see where the roamers were.

Again, I felt the bulk of my backpack weighing me down as I scrambled back up to my feet. I usually wasn't too afraid of them, but this time they just caught me off guard.

Damn, they were noisy. It was like a chorus of groans.

After running for not that long, I was almost out of earshot of them which meant they probably couldn't smell me anymore. I took the opportunity to stop and look around for any more of them, which there was not. "Guess I'll just stay here," I muttered unreasonably quietly to myself as if someone was listening in.

I kind of abandoned the idea of staying in a tree. At this point, I decided that it would just be easier if I stayed on the ground. So I did; I kicked out all of the leaves and sticks from the clearing I was in and lay my backpack down against a thin, tall tree.

Then I heard something—something I hadn't heard in forever. Silence. Everything was quiet for once. Nobody was yelling, nobody was talking, nobody was screaming for help. It was just quiet. Because _that_ is how things are supposed to be

I myself leaned back against the same tree that my backpack was depending on, my head rested back and my legs crossed out stretched in front of me. If I could, I would have slept out there. Hell, I might've even wanted to live out there.

I'm not sure how long I was out. I didn't even check my watch before easing into a comfortable half-nap. If there were any sounds, I was completely unaware. Comfort and wellbeing surrounded and swam around me, carrying me to an overwhelming feeling of ecstasy.

Okay, I take back what I said about it being completely silent. It's wasn't _totally_ quiet; there was the occasional sound of birds chirping, small rodents scurrying around and rustling the brittle dead summer leaves. But that's a different kind of noise. It was still quiet, nonetheless.

If I focused enough and stopped breathing, I could still hear the roamers in the distance. I could escape the confines of Alexandria, but that's the price I pay. Oh well, you get used to it.

Roamers make a different sound when they're being killed. It's less like moaning and more like… A louder, angrier moan. Like they're screaming. That's the sound that interrupted my diplomatic thoughts and darkened them.

For the second time today, I grabbed my bag and considered fleeing. No, this was different. Someone was killing them; someone else was out here. It puzzled me; I had made sure to check the run schedules and they had left into the opposite direction. There shouldn't be any running groups in this part of the forest right now.

I got up slowly, careful not to make too much noise, and walked cautiously forward and closer to the sounds. Someone was surely slicing them up good, but I couldn't see through all of the trees.

I knew I had to get away from there but I didn't know where to go. My head whipped back and forth, searching desperately for somewhere to hide. Finally my vision landed on a thin tree with a hollow inside and I sprinted toward it, sliding my thin body into the small opening.

It was hard to tell if the anonymous zombie-slayer was nearing, but I didn't want to take any chances of peeking my head out. I knew they were still out there somewhere, and it suddenly crossed my mind that I may or may not need to defend myself. But in the uncomfortable position I was in, it was near impossible for me to reach my backpack where my knives were.

My breathing quickened, not from exhaustion but rather fear. There was no way for me to tell who this was; I couldn't even ensure if they came from Alexandria or not. My heart pounded like a horse running a race and my hands trembled. I craned my neck backwards trying to get a better view, but once again was fruitless.

I came to the conclusion that I was useless in there. I was in there hiding from something, but if that something found me then I was screwed. Stuck inside a tree without a weapon or any form of self-defense? Wonderful. One might call me a genius, if you will.

I slipped back out of the small opening, immediately taking a quick inspection of the premises. Still nothing—Right then, I saw the slim outline of a body not too far away from where I was. It was a boy, I could tell that much. He seemed to be a bit shorter than me, maybe even smaller. I didn't recognize him, though.

He was looking for something, peeking behind trees and looking up at the leaf canopies. I turned around and continued sprinting through the strikingly lovely forest. He was traveling mostly on the right side which was closest to the walls, so I traveled further to the left. I sat and waited with my back against a wide tree. It was the perfect place; I was out of his perception but I could see him just fine.

There wasn't much that I could tell about him from where he was standing. What I could see was that he was definitely about my age, maybe a year younger, and he wore a hat with a large brim. I felt more comfortable now that I knew he wasn't too big of a threat.

 _Well, might as well have some fun while I'm out here,_ I thought, making my way further back so I was closer to him. I could still see him but he hadn't spotted me yet.

He looked confused, as if he didn't know the place well. His back was turned to me and I could tell he was wearing a jean jacket over an undistinguishable shirt, a pair of grayish jeans, and a pair of brown boots. Now that I was closer I could also make out that his hat was a sheriff's hat and dark hair trailed from under it, reaching only a few inches above his shoulders.

I vaguely recognized him from a group that had come in just recently. It was a pretty big group. I watched from my bedroom window as they all trudged into the town, grimy and despondent like everyone else had been when they first arrived. I didn't catch his name, though, and I didn't see much of his face.

He kept walking forward and I strayed more to the right so I was only a few trees behind him. Now I could see his back perfectly clearly. He didn't carry any bags with him but he held a handgun in his left hand against his thigh.

The wind picked up fast, raging so hard that the boy's hat blew off and in my direction. He immediately spun around to see where it had gone, presenting a nicely rounded face with a small pointed chin accented by stunning blue eyes. He didn't run to get it; instead he only walked with a steadfast composure in its direction.

I jumped out from behind my tree with my back facing him, hiding my face. Swiftly, I grabbed the hat and took off deeper into woods where I came from. A grin spread across my face—it felt nice to smile again. For real, I mean.

"Hey!" I heard him yell from not too far behind me. It wasn't an angry yell, just raising his voice so I could hear him as I began my escape. I almost swore that I could hear somewhat of a grin just latent on the tip of his tongue.

I continued to smile while sprinting deeper into the forest. I hoped he was smiling, too, otherwise I'd feel awkward. At one point I heard a playful laugh escape from his mouth, his voice traveling forward with the way of the wind.

We reached a large group of wide trees, wider than the ones I'd hidden behind when I was first infiltrating him. I hastily spotted the biggest one and made a B-line for it, hoping to loose the boy in the mass of trees and bushes.

Once I was behind the tree, I didn't hear his footsteps anymore. My back and shoulders hurt from the bulk of my bag and my lungs burned worse and worse with every breath I took. _Maybe I lost him,_ I thought, really hoping I was right. Even if I did lose him, that meant he was still in here. I'd have to get to him before he got to me.

I crept around the perimeter of the tree and looked around for where he might be. There still weren't any footsteps or voices. I sighed and leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes and making one last attempt at relaxation for the day.

If he was near, he would have heard me by then. I was panting like a dog and it was drying out my throat, so I reached my arm back and unzipped my backpack, digging for my plastic water bottle.

It took me a while but I finally got a hold of it after enduring much pain with my strained arm reached back at an angle it's not supposed to. I unscrewed the white plastic cap and lifted it up to my chapped lips. Right as I did so I felt a pair of strong hands clamp down on my shoulder, spinning me around so I was facing him and then pushing me down onto the ground. It was the boy who was chasing me. Apparently he _was_ near.

He hovered above me on all fours, pinning me down with his arms and legs. He looked different without his hat; his hair wafted around more spontaneously and seemed longer than before. Water splashed from my water bottle and onto my face, dripping down onto my neck and under my shirt.

With the amount of force he used, I thought he was angry. But I was shocked to look up and see an ear-to-ear grin stretched across his lovely face. I smiled back, lightly testing my strength against his weight by lifting my wrists up where he had me pinned down. He seemed light enough for me to push him off of me. But not if he was purposefully exerting force; I had to distract him first.

I gave him one more devious looking smile before spitting in his face, narrowly missing his eye but instead landing right below it. He made a strange sound, almost like a squeal and rubbed his face with his right hand. The light handgun was still in his left hand; I could feel it pressing against my skin as he pinned my down.

"Get off me, scrub," I grunted, bearing the same evil smile on my face as I jerked my arms up with all of my force and proved to be successful as he wiped my spit off of his face. Once I had regained my balance I slid my dark backpack off of my shoulders and set it against a tree, then began looking around for where his hat was. I'd accidentally let go of it when he attacked me.

He had also recovered his footing and I could hear him approaching me from behind. Discretely, I readied my half empty water bottle to splash it on him if he tried to attack me again. Or, better yet, if I just got bored and felt like it. I chose the latter.

I spun around as quickly as I could, almost throwing my arm forward. The water flew out of the small opening in the bottle and showered down on his head, which look so bare without the hat. It was short lived though, for he responded immediately by jumping back out of the water range.

"At least you washed off the spit," He chided, lifting up the collar of his shirt to wipe off his dampened face.

"Cool hat," I changed the subject, picking up the stray hat from where it lay not too far from my backpack. I noticed the embroidered badge, stating something about 'King County Sheriff'.

"It's my dad's. He was a sheriff back in Atlanta," He responded. There was almost hesitation in his voice, like he was nervous. "Well, it _was_ my dad's. Mine now,"

"Oh." I turned around and tossed him the hat while I walked back over towards my backpack where it leaned against the tree. "Is your dad okay?

"Yeah he's fine. He's not dead, if that's what your suggesting," He caught the hat and immediately placed it back on his head.

"You came a long way," Alexandria was close to Washington. It was almost 700 miles from Atlanta all the way here. "Are you in Alexandria?"

"Yeah, my dad's the constable." I knew who he was talking about. I'd heard a bit about there being two new constables while I was eavesdropping on Deanna, the mayor of Alexandria.

"Rick? Rick is your dad?" I think his name was Rick. Or maybe it was Nick. I said Rick anyway; if I was wrong he could correct me.

"Yeah, that's him," He didn't seem ashamed, but not proud either. Just kind of okay. Like it was nothing. "Why are you out here, anyway?"

"Why not?" I sat down next to my backpack and put a protective arm over it. I didn't feel threatened by him, just instinct. You protect things that are important.

"It's dangerous," He crossed the small clearing and came to sit at the tree next to me. "You could get hurt. You could die,"

"People die. I'm sure you know that," He remained stone faced. That meant he knew; he knew all too well. "I'm Enid,"

In most cases, one might have offered their hand for a handshake or even a high five. I didn't, though. I just kind of stared at him. Honestly, thinking back, it probably made him uncomfortable. But he stared back, either way.

It took him a minute to respond. A short moment of intense eye contact can make anything feel like it lasted longer than it actually has. "Carl,"

He didn't offer me his hand, either. He only secured his gun back into its holster and leaned his head back, breaking the eye contact. I was glad but disappointed at the same time; it was awkward, but he acted uncomfortable. He was cute when he was uncomfortable. I'm not sure what made him so uncomfortable though; maybe he was afraid of me. Nervous, almost. Like he didn't feel comfortable talking to me.

"How'd you find me?" I wondered, assuming it was me he was looking for.

"I saw you climb over the wall," Carl turned his head away from me. "I wanted to know what you were doing,"

"Well, now you know," I leaned forward, trying to get a better look at his face. I hated when people didn't look at me while they talked. "Why do you even _care_?"

He didn't respond, only looked back at me. Sorrow glinted in his eyes like a star in a dark sky. He'd lost someone; we all had. But he was different. He'd lost a lot of people; people he cared about. People he thinks he should have saved. I know, you're probably thinking 'Well, how do you know that?' I know because it's happened to me. Because I've seen that look on myself. I've seen those eyes. I know what they mean.

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 **A.N. Short than I'd hoped, but I'm still happy I got chapter one up. Please review!**


	3. The Dishes

**_"When It's Forgotten"_** **  
Chapter 2 –** ** _"The Dishes"_**

 ** _\- * *_** _From the Point of View of: Carl_ _ *** * -**_

"She took my hat," I admitted to Michonne, handing her a plate I'd just washed so she could dry it. She'd seen me sneak back over the walls and was now demanding I told her everything, lest she tell my overprotective father. It's funny; back at the prison he didn't give a single damn about me or what happened to me. I wonder what sparked his sudden change in interest.

"Oh, sounds like she's into you," Michonne teased with a wink, taking the clean dish and drying it with a small gray towel.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the last dish out of the sink, a small coffee mug. Most of the dirt and dust washed off on first contact with the running faucet water. "No, definitely not. She's got a boyfriend anyway," She handed me the green sponge from where it sat on her side of the sink. I pumped some soap onto it and began scrubbing the inside of the mug. "Ron,"

"Ron? The boy who offered you a tour?" When we first arrived the previous day, after we were interviewed and shown to our new home, a boy about my age named Ron came over and offered me a tour. I followed him to his house where we talked for a bit, until I witnessed Enid climbing over the wall. I politely excused myself and sent after her, searching for almost three hours before I found her.

"Yeah," I finished scrubbing and rinsing the mug and handed it to Michonne. It was only the beginning of our second day and a citizen had recently come by to drop off standard household items that they'd collected on runs. That included dishes, silverware, bedsheets, pillows, books, paper, and just various items you never even thought about until they were gone. It almost gives me an entirely new respect for toilet paper and dish soap.

"I think some of the kids are going to school tomorrow," She finished drying the mug and stored it in one of the cabinets above the sink with the rest of the cups. "I think you should go."

I walked out of the kitchen and fell indolently backwards onto the couch, scoffing at her comment. "Like hell I will,"

She crossed over to the chair opposite of the couch. "Watch your mouth," She sunk back into the chair and I could see a feeling of pure joy cross over her face as she sat down to relax for the first time in what must have seemed like forever. "You know your dad doesn't like that."

"Speaking of my dad," I repositioned myself upwards, leaning on my elbow. "How come he's on the job and you're not?"

Michonne lifted her head up and looked out the back window into our large backyard. It was completely empty. Depressing, almost, looking back there and thinking about how it was before all of this. "He's down the street visiting another family. They had a little boy your age and they offered to give you his stuff."

"What happened to him?" Even though I knew the answer, I hoped for a better outcome. Maybe something like he grew out of it or got new stuff. Michonne cast a knowing 'you know what' glance at me and I looked down, disappointed in the sudden mood change. I liked seeing Michonne happy and I didn't like it when her esteem dropped. She didn't show many emotions often, so I tried to capture the moment as best I could. "I don't want a dead kid's stuff," I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth. It made me sound like a spoiled brat. At that point, I should have been grateful for anything I could get my hands on, and I was. Unless it previously belonged to a dead boy, in which case, not so much.

"Suck it up, soldier," She sighed. "When it's all you have, I suggest you take advantage of it."

With that, she stood up and started towards the stairs.

Enid and I must have talked for about two hours the previous day. I didn't expect Michonne to be home so soon; thank goodness my dad wasn't home yet, otherwise I'd be dead by now. I got lucky when Michonne went easy on me and made me promise as long as I told her the truth about what happened in the woods she wouldn't have to tell me dad.

I looked around the large room filled with seemingly unused furniture. Anyone who stepped inside Alexandria would have been able to immediately realize that it was a fairly wealthy neighborhood. Before all of this, that is. I hadn't seen Enid's house yet, but I assumed it was the same way. All of the houses in the entire town looked similar.

I decided that I'd lie down and take a nap, so I grabbed a recently washed blanket from the dryer and curled up on the couch, ready to sink into a more serene sleep then I'd had in years.

There was a knock on the door. _Please let Michonne get it, please let Michonne get it,_ I thought, not wanting to rise once I'd finally gotten into a comfortable position on the fancy couch.

"Carl, can you get that?" She called from upstairs, in her bedroom, I presumed. Damn.

"Ugh…" I buried my face in the pillow and let out a loud groan; loud enough that the person outside the front door probably heard it. After a few seconds I stood up and smoothed my hair back lazily with my hand and began walking to the door.

The door was a large window only surrounded by a white outline, but we had recently requested blinds and our appeal was granted. I almost wish we hadn't gotten them so that I could look out and see who it was for myself, then decide whether or not it was worth answering.

The lock made a quiet _click_ sound as I flipped it to unlock the door, reminding me of the times when I would walk home from school with my friends. I was young, maybe 10, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Every day I'd get home at around 3:30 in the afternoon and I'd call my mom on the house phone. She would answer after one ring, as if she was sitting by the phone awaiting my call. She'd ask me how my day was, how much homework I had, and who walked home with me. Then she'd ask if I had any trouble coming home, which I never did, and then she'd remind me to make sure the door was locked, like the overprotective mother that she was. Finally she'd say bye and tell me she loved me, I'd say the same, and then we'd hang up.

Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought and I tried my best to blink them away as I turned the handle to the door and pulled it open. I didn't see who it was immediately because of the recurring tears blurring my vision, but I soon recognized the lengthy brown hair and tan skin of Enid. She was wearing the same light jeans and brown boots as yesterday, but instead of a striped sweater it was a plain black t-shirt with a white star in the center.

I brought the back of my hand up to my face and wiped my eyes, trying to cover it up to make it look like I was wiping sweat. Apparently I didn't do too good of a job. "You okay?" She asked, crossing one arm over her chest and grabbing the upper part of her other arm nervously.

"Yeah," I wiped the remainders of the dampness from my eyes with my thumb and opened the door a bit wider for her. "Want to come in?"

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. It was one strand that was constantly falling out from behind her ear—she must have pushed it back over a hundred times yesterday in the woods. "Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go out again," She clutched onto her backpack straps with both hands. "I had fun yesterday."

I smiled at her. She distracted me from the thoughts of my mom; I liked that. Usually the only thing that could distract me was killing walkers or eating chocolate pudding. They had lots of chocolate pudding in Alexandria, luckily; it was my favorite snack before all of this happened. I hadn't had it since the walkers broke out with the exception of once; when our group was all split up I found a 112oz container of it. I ate it all in one day. "Me too," I turned my hat to the side a bit to straighten it out. "Let me go get my stuff."

I walked up the stairs heading towards my room. On the way, I peered into Michonne's bedroom. She didn't see me as I approached her open doorway; her back was turned toward me and she was facing the wall. There wasn't much I could see, but I could tell that she was looking down at something. Maybe a book. I took another step into the room, but I was still unable to see anything, so I crossed over further and sat next to her on the bed. She immediately clamped the book shut and slid it under the pillow next to her. "Carl," Her eyes were wild. "Who was it at the door?"

"It was Enid," I replied suspiciously. "What are you doing in here? What were you looking at?"

She gave me a sideways look—almost nervous. Honestly, she never looked nervous, or even scared. "Don't tell your father," She whispered. It wasn't a plea, more of a demand.

"What were you doing in here?" I demanded, almost shouting, saying my words very slowly for emphasis to show her I meant business and standing up so I was standing in front of her. "What were you looking at?"

Michonne gave me another sad look before casting her eyes to the ground and reaching under the pillow to retrieve what she was looking at before. "Do _not_ tell your father," She repeated, more assertive this time. Her hand was still on the object under the pillow but she hadn't pulled it out yet.

"I can't promise anything," I was growing more and more suspicious every time she licked her lips nervously or whenever her eyes flitted around the room.

"Then I can't show you."

"I won't tell him about this if you don't tell him about me… You know," I implied my endeavor outside the town yesterday by pointing toward at the walls, which were visible from the window.

"Or maybe I just won't show you at all."

"I don't know what this is or why you're hiding it," I tried my best to be intimidating but it was hard with an older, wiser, and more mature woman. "But I'll find out. It's easier if you just tell me now."

I stared her down, waiting for her response. In time, she nodded. "Okay." She pulled her hand out from beneath the pillow, but wasn't holding the item. "Later. Don't keep your friend waiting."

"No, now. She can wait." I insisted, heading toward the door to tell Enid she'd have to wait.

"Wait," She called after me, still with her back facing toward the door. "Why does it matter?"

I stopped in my tracks and spun around, only to look at the back of her head. "Because…" I started, but became infuriated when she still didn't look at me. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, dammit!"

She jerked around to face me, astonished. "Carl!" She hissed, bewilderment crossing her face like a puffy cloud across a bright evening sky.

" _Because,"_ I hissed, taking a few steps closer to her. "Because lies and secrets won't get us anywhere. And if anyone knows that well enough, it's me. This specific circumstance may not be a big deal to you, and maybe it shouldn't be to me, but it is. I'm _sick_ of being lied to, and I'm _sick_ of everything being kept from me. I'm not a child anymore. I can handle whatever shit you wanna throw my way. But don't lie to me anymore."

"I guess I overreacted," I finished off, looking up from the ground to see Enid giving me an understanding look.

"Did you ever get to see what it was she was looking at?" She asked, dropping her vision down to her feet.

"No, and that's the part that I feel so bad about. It could have been something simple and innocent, like a novel," I took off my hat and tapped it against my hand anxiously. "But she tried to hide it and I got pissed."

"No, I get it," She responded blandly. The whole time we had been in the forest I had been venting about my argument with Michonne, meanwhile Enid had just been sitting, nodding, and listening. She was so tranquil about the whole situation and she didn't intervene or tell me what I should've done; only sat and listened. I'd known her for a day and we were—or, rather, _I_ was—already confiding in her with my personal problems.

I sighed and placed my hat back on my head. "What about you? How are you doing?"

She smiled awkwardly and drew a knife out of her backpack. "It's fine, we can talk about you. I'll listen," She traced swirly lines onto the log she was leaning against.

"No, I'm done. I promise." I examined her knife and how much focus and effort she was putting into carving her abstract designs. "Do you like art?"

"I guess," She responded quietly without much interest. I waited a minute before speaking again, feeling like I was interrupting her intense concentration.

"What are you thinking about?"

She stopped stirring the knife and paused, though not taking her attention from where she stared at the designs. Then she shrugged dully and dropped her knife onto the ground.

"I'm sorry, did I say something?" I commented on her sudden change in mood. She was fine before we came into the woods, but now she seemed hurt.

She shook her head, still not speaking. The only other movement that she made was flicking a loose twig off of her boot.

"Enid, I don't know what I did," I reasoned, trying to at least get her to make eye contact with me. "But I'm sorry."

She looked up at me with the same dismal look. "I just don't think you should treat your mom like that. She might not be here forever."

I blinked back, surprised at her response. "What? You think… You think Michonne is my mom?"

"She isn't?" She seemed confused, as if she was completely convinced this whole time that both my parents were alive and that Michonne was my mother. I couldn't see how one might think that, other than that Michonne lived with us. That was only because she didn't want to live alone and my dad offered her housing with us, but she had her own bedroom.

"No, my uhh…" I cleared my throat and picked at my shoelace. "No, my mom's not here. Not anymore."

"Oh," She gave me another sorrowful look. "I'm sorry. So, your little sister—is she…"

"She's my mom's."

"Oh. I'm… I'm sorry about that," She picked her knife back up but held eye contact with me rather than turning her attention back to the carvings on the log.

"No, it's okay." I stopped fidgeting with my shoelaces and looked at her. We just sat there, staring at each other for a while. Nobody said anything, which I was somewhat grateful for, and nobody moved. I just gazed at her while she looked back at me. We stared right into each other's eyes, yet it wasn't awkward like eye contact usually was. It was nice, actually. She gave me a sense of comfort. Friendship, even.

Finally she broke the stares by looking back down at her feet. I cleared my throat again uncomfortably. I don't know what had just happened between us, but it caused my heart to beat so fast that I almost swore it was gonna leap out of my mouth and lay—still beating—on the ground.

"So, what made you think Michonne was my mom?" I finally asked, wanting to break the growingly intense silence hanging between us like fog in early morning.

She shrugged again, but this time she opened her mouth to say something. I was disappointed when she closed it since I was desperate for an answer, but my spirits were once again lifted when she did manage to give me a response. "I saw them together," She started, almost hesitantly as if something she said might upset me.

"You saw them… Together?" I repeated back, not understanding her statement through the vagueness of her comment.

"Yeah, umm… Like…" She continued. That strand of hair fell—the same single strand of hair. Whenever it fell, I wanted to be the one to reach forward and push it back. She always beat me to it, though. And I didn't want to make her feel weird if I did. "You know, kissing."

I bit my lip and looked up at the leaves with a sarcastic laugh. "Unbelievable. That's what I mean, about the lies. Ruining things. This is the first I'm hearing of this. I'm not surprised, though,"

She nodded with a somewhat sense of empathy. "You mean you didn't even know?"

I scoffed. "No, that's my point exactly."

We shared another thing—a moment, if you will. Just a long minute, staring into each other's eyes like in the romantic movies. But this was different because this legitimately lasted minutes at a time. I'd have to say that the strangest part was how I didn't get bored. You'd think that sitting there and staring at someone's face, it might get boring after a while. It didn't, though. I could have done it all day if she would give me the time.

I finally chuckled nervously and looked away. "Why do you keep doing that?"

She laughed, too, but she didn't look away. She just kept staring me down. Her expression was unreadable, though. "Your eyes are nice,"

My cheeks flushed and I looked down trying to hide the embarrassment. "Thanks," I started fidgeting with my shoelace again. "I… Umm… You're beautiful," There it was. I wanted to turn around and bang my head against a concrete wall. I wanted to climb up the tallest tree in the forest and jump off of it. I wanted to curl up into a large hole and just… Die. Honestly, I wanted to throw up. I think I almost did. The bile rose up and everything. I'd never been that humiliated; I sincerely considered turning around and running away forever. _Forever._

She smiled at me again. She didn't laugh at how much of a loser I was or how badly I failed, she just gave me a really nice smile. Not a picture smile, not a sympathetic smile… Just one of her lovely smiles. "Really?"

"Yeah, umm… Sorry," I muttered, still embarrassed even despite her well-appreciated ignorance to what I said. "I know you're with Ron,"

She resumed carving the designs in the log, but looked up at me periodically as if she were trying to keep an eye on me. "You can still complement me," She brushed that _same_ strand of hair back behind her ear. That had to get annoying; I wonder why she didn't just pin it back. "I know you're not hitting on me. We're friends; friends can complement each other,"

I returned her friendly smile and pulled my legs up to my chest. "How long have we been out here?"

"About half an hour," She answered after taking a quick look at her digital watch.

I was sitting opposite of her in a small clearing in the forest. She told me she came here often, but she was always alone. She said the others wouldn't understand. "Don't you ever feel unsafe out here? You know, like, vulnerable?"

"No," She quickly countered, observing the forest around her. She looked at it the way I used to see my parents look at each other—she was in love with the forest. "It's perfect, it's beautiful. I don't see anything wrong with it."

"I guess it is," I saw how beautiful it was, but in spite of that it still made me feel unsafe. Unless I was with Enid, because having someone there with you makes it so much easier. Having a companion even in an unsafe environment always makes me feel safer. I suddenly felt the need to change the subject for the sake of me misunderstanding her passion for the forest. Her knife was something that I'd taken interest in the first time she pulled it out, so I chose it as the conversation starter. "Cool knife,"

She paused and her expression grew dismayed. "It was my mom's,"

"What happened to her?" I knew that she probably didn't want to talk about it, but she needed to. I wish I had talked about it. Keeping it in only makes you angrier—and anger is dangerous. Anger makes you cause the same problems to other people that you're in. And I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"It doesn't matter." She said in an end-of-discussion-period kind of tone. I didn't give up that easily.

"It does," I got up and took a few steps to her side of the clearing. We had been sitting opposite of each other, each of us leaning on our own log. But her log was big enough for the both of us. "I know. Something bad happened to me, too. Keeping it a secret doesn't help."

"But you have secrets, I know you do." Enid looked over at me. I could tell she still wasn't willing to tell me her story. "Everyone has secrets."

"You're right," I looked back at her, once again commencing the intense staring. But this time we talked during it. "I do have secrets."

"Tell me one of your secrets," She whispered, her voice softening, dropping her knife. "And I'll tell you one of mine,"

She didn't break the eye contact, only deepened it by blinking slowly. I don't know why, and I don't really remember what was going on in my head, I just remember my heart doing the really fast beating thing again. Like the first time we had one of these stare downs—like I was going to throw it up. But I lifted my hand up, just a little bit from where it was lying next to hers. I stroked the top of her hand with my thumb and leaned my head in, just a little bit. She didn't do anything, just continued to look at me.

I jerked my hand and head back, already feeling guilty. _Idiot,_ I shouted at myself repeatedly in my head. _Ugh, you're such an idiot, Carl!_ "I'm sorry," I whispered, still not looking back at her.

"You're afraid of me," She remarked, almost sounding amused. "It's okay. I'm afraid of you too."

"Afraid of me?" I questioned, my gaze still focused on my right shoe instead of looking back at her. "Why?"

"I don't know," I saw her grin out of the corner of my eye. She thought it was funny, but it was actually really embarrassing. "You just scare me."

"Do I make you feel uncomfortable? Or upset?"

"No, not like that. It's just… Whenever I see you, my heart starts beating really fast and my stomach feels sick and sometimes my legs and arms start shaking and I feel weak. I'm afraid of you."

"But you've only seen me twice, how could you know that it happens every time?" She got the feeling, too. The feeling that I got when she looked at me. She got it, too.

"Because, it's…" She shook her head and paused. "It's dumb, but it happens whenever you look at me. Whenever we do that… Staring thing,"

"You mean like this?" I teased, opening my eyes wide and staring her right in the face. That's not how it usually happened, typically it was just looking. It didn't feel like staring, but I guess it was—it felt more like observing. Like we were reading each other.

"Stop," She warned with a grin, putting a hand on my chest and pushing me back. "No, not like that. You know what I mean."

"Okay, want to hear me secret?" I spoke quietly like a schoolgirl spreading scandalous gossip.

She grinned, wide, and nodded.

"I feel the same way," I whispered, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. "I'm afraid of you, too."

* * *

 **A.N. Thanks for the great reviews so far! Please keep reviewing! :)**


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